Strange Comfort
by stardustkr7
Summary: After the funeral, Barbara slips away from everyone else. Jason finally catches up with her.


**A/N**: Written in response to the unused Nightwing #30 panels detailing the funeral.

* * *

Jason slipped into the dingy little dive bar, scanning the room. The redhead was seated alone at the bar, staring at her glass, just as he thought he would find her.

"Mind if I join you, Barbie?" he asked quietly when he reached her side.

She looked up, clearly ready to tell yet another person to fuck off already, but paused when she saw who it was. Wearily, she shrugged and turned back to her drink, waving at the bartender to bring two more whiskeys.

"How did you find me?" Barbara asked after the bartender left them alone.

"Drake tracked your cell after you disappeared earlier. Then got into it with Bruce about letting another one of us die. So I thought I'd find you while they argued," he said.

"I slapped you at the funeral," she muttered into her drink.

"Yeah … I think I kind get why though," said Jason, rubbing at the cheek that was still slightly pinker than the other one. He studied her for a moment, slumped on her barstool and drinking straight whiskey like it was water. He really didn't think he had ever actually seen her drinking, let alone drunk in a bar. "Look, I promise you, I never wanted this. I know it doesn't mean much, but whatever our issues, I didn't want Grayson … I didn't want Dick to die."

"I know," she said, taking a drink. It was at least her fourth and by now, it was really starting to work. "I know, but you don't know … it was always hard to watch you fight. Jay, he thought of you as his little brother. He would have done anything for you."

"He would have done anything for you too, Barbara."

She sniffled a little, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to stop the tears. She had cried so much, she was sure her eyes were just going to permanently be red.

"Don't tell me he thought of me as a sister."

"He didn't," said Jason, "no way. You were so much more to him than that, Barbie."

Barbara shook her head and took another large gulp. The whiskey hardly burned anymore.

"I feel like I should have been more…"

"What does that mean?"

She looked up at him, tears still swimming in her eyes. "Can I tell you something?"

"Of course, that's why I'm here," he said.

"I … I don't think I'm as upset as I should be … about him dying …"

Jason raised an eyebrow at her. "Barbie … you're drinking whiskey and crying in a dive bar. I think you're sufficiently upset."

"No, no, I should be upset and devastated but I'm just not. I knew him for … for six years? We had been through so much, I thought. But then the more I think about it … we haven't!" Barbara rambled. "I was Batgirl for just over a year before I was shot and he hardly saw me because he was with Kory and then I recovered and got back in the game and then what? He goes to Chicago? The only time I told him we should act on our feelings, my then boyfriend was in coma!"

"Shhh, Barbie, let's not give out all our identities at once," Jason muttered, glancing around to make sure no one was paying attention to her little outburst.

"I thought we were soooo close but I think back on our relationship and I don't even know what he was doing for most of it. All of it feels so wrong, Jason. I feel like I was missing something and now we'll never even get it back."

Jason awkwardly patted her shoulder. Maybe something was wrong with their world. Or maybe the whiskey and grief was getting to her.

"So you realized that Grayson wasn't the saint everyone made him out to be and you feel bad being angry about realizing this after he died. If he couldn't be bothered to make something happen with you, maybe you shouldn't be wasting more tears on him."

"First Damian and now Dick. This whole thing is just wrong, Jason."

"No, what's wrong is that asshole made you think you meant so much to him and then leaves you feeling guilty for not trying harder," he said, shaking his head. His hand was still around her shoulders, leaning in closer so they could talk quieter.

Barbara finished off her glass and looked over at him again. "It's so easy for you to get mad at him," she observed.

"Well, you refuse to. Someone has to," he said, "And what about B and the others? Why not be mad at the whole fucking League for not getting there soon enough to save Dick? Fuck ...," he added, tossing back the rest of his drink.

Barbara reached over and patted his knee. He looked down at her hand and then up at her face, her eyes and nose still red from crying.

"It's okay, you can be upset about it too …" she whispered.

He stared at her, willing himself not to move an inch closer or father.

"I was so jealous of you two," Jason admitted.

"Jay …"

Of course she had to know, at least how he had felt back when he was Robin to her Batgirl. The way she was looking at him was clear that she was thinking about it. What was he even trying to do here? She was in distress and he had to turn the conversation to him?

"I should make sure you get home alright," he said.

She moved her hand from his lap and looked away. "I guess so…"

After paying the tab, he helped her to her feet, gently holding her arm as she swayed a little. She held onto him as they stepped out of the bar and onto the sidewalk.

"Wooo…" she said, feeling a little dizzy with the movement. She grabbed onto his shirt to steady herself. "… too fast …"

"I don't know where you live …" Jason began, looking up and down the street as though trying to guess the direction.

Barbara shook her head. "No, nooo … Can't go home, my roommate is there, she can't know … can't go to dad's … so I came here," she muttered, still holding onto the front of his shirt.

"Right … my place isn't too far. Come on," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders again.

She looked up at him suspiciously as they started walking.

"No funny business, I swear. Roy and Kory will be there too."

"Ooookay…"

"I'm not going to take you back to the manor," he said. "Last thing any of us needs is Bruce being an angsty, judgmental asshat and Tim being …"

"A prick!" Barbara said loudly. "Tim is such a prick, oh my god, I don't even know where it came from. I just realized that he's such a little douche sometimes. Isn't he? I swear he didn't used to be like that! But half the time, I just want to slap him!"

Jason snorted with amusement. "I'm the wrong person to ask, Barbie. I always want to punch Drake."

"I'm telling you, everything is just wrong!" she insisted, waving an arm for emphasis. "Why was Roy wearing a trucker hat? Why am I the only Batgirl? Why the hell was I dating Ricky?"

"You're not the only one, there's … wait …" Jason shook his head; now he was catching whatever whiskey induced confusion she had. "Barbie, you're tired and upset and yeah, Roy's hat doesn't make a lot of sense but maybe things will be better in the morning," he said, directing her down another deserted street.

She was quiet for a moment as they walked, making their way through a residential neighborhood. Her arm had found its way around his waist.

"Where're we going again?"

"My safe house. I told you, Roy and Kory should be there too, if they're not busy."

"Does Kory like me?" she asked, looking up at him, somewhat worried.

"Of course she does," said Jason, surprised at her question. "Kory loves everyone … I think…"

"Wait," she said, stopping them on the sidewalk. She squinted up at him and he was very aware of her arm still around him and her body tucked into his side and her lips just right there. "You aren't trying to set me up in some kind of … of _orgy_, are you?" she asked.

Jason blinked. He really needed to see Barbara drunk more often, if only for the questions that spewed out of her gorgeous mouth.

"Not tonight," he said, holding back temptation to answer with something more suggestive. "But if you wanted to offer that when you're sober …" he added, getting her to start walking with him again.

"In your dreams, Todd," she said, rolling her eyes and waving her hand again.

"Meet me there, Barbie?"

She shook her head again. "Why aren't we better friends? You're funny. Why am I always mad at you?"

Jason smirked. "Well, in your defense, I had done some pretty terrible things that you vehemently disagree with."

"Right, right, the whole gun thing …"

"Hey, let's not get into it tonight. I think we've had enough to deal with today," he said, finally leading her up the walk to a small, single level house.

"This is your place?"

"In Gotham, yes… it's not much," he said, opening the door and leading her inside.

"It's cozy," said Barbara, glancing around the dim living room. She made her way over to the couch, her steps still wobbly, while he took off his shoes and hung up his jacket. "I'll just crash here, be out of your way in the morning …"

"Don't be stupid, Barbie. You can sleep in my bed," said Jason.

"Are y' sure?" she asked, slurring her words a little and giving him that confused squint again.

"Of course. I'll stay out here. Just go down the hall, third door on the right. Kory and Roy probably went to bed already so the other doors should be closed anyway…"

"Come with me?" she asked.

"To bed?"

Barbara shrugged and looked around the room. "I dunno … I thought I wanted to be alone earlier but I don't really want to now and I trust you and I'm tired and … and he's gone and I just don't want to be alone," she said, biting her lip.

"Oh, okay," said Jason, still stuck on the admission that she trusted him. He leaned over and picked her up when she didn't make much effort to move towards the hallway.

"Whoa…" she muttered, blinking and grabbing onto him at the sudden movement.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," she said, wrapping her arms around his neck, "just world spinning fast stuff… it's fine."

There was really no way Jason could have predicted that his night would end with carrying a drunken Barbara Gordon to his bedroom. At least she was probably too drunk to care that his bed was unmade and his room was messy, he thought as he set her down and helped take off her shoes.

"For the record, clothes are all still on, okay?" said Jason, getting in on the other side of the bed.

"Okay," said Barbara, looking over at him with wide eyes.

They lay there for a few minutes, not touching but close enough to feel body heat radiating. She wiggled a little, still studying him interestedly.

"You're staring, Barbie," Jason finally said. "Do you want me to leave?"

"No … Jason, I know you think I don't like you and I guesss I have been kinda hard on you," she rambled on again, "but I don't want you to think I hate you or anything. Like, you were annoying but I always cared and okay, I didn't get drunk like this when you died but I was really sad."

"Um, thank you," he said when she paused and looked at him expectantly.

She gave him the confused squinty look again. Then suddenly she was moving closer, placing a hand on his chest and then resting her head on his shoulder.

"Is this okay?" she asked, her breath tickling his neck.

"Yes," he said, probably too quickly. "I mean, yeah, whatever's comfortable for you, Barbara."

"This is comfortable," she said, "hugs are comfy. Because we're friends. That's what friends do."

"We're friends now?" Jason asked, letting his arms wrap around her and hold her closer. She didn't seem to mind, snuggling closer to his side.

"We're the only ones left now, Jaybird," she said seriously. She was quiet for a moment and then suddenly she started giggling in his ear. "I can't believe it … we really are the only ones left…"

"Well, there's Drake."

"Nononononooo, something's wrong with Tim, remember? It's just us now… I don't know why I'm laughing…" she gasped. "I think I'm still drunk…"

Jason snorted. "You think?"

Her giggles soon turned to sniffling and she hugged him a little tighter. He swore he felt a tear on his neck.

"Don't cry, Barbie," he said, rubbing her back as she whined. "It's okay …"

Eventually, her crying calmed and her breathing became slow and even. Jason lay very still, ignoring the slight discomfort of his arm so he wouldn't disturb her now she had finally gone to sleep.

The strange closeness that had suddenly developed between them tonight was a surprise, but not an unwelcome one. He felt selfish, but he hoped it wasn't just desperate grief and alcohol. He hoped they might have a chance at a civil conversation again. He hoped she didn't leave before he woke up the next morning.


End file.
